


Starstruck

by Aftersingers



Category: Marvel
Genre: Child!Peter, Deadpool - Freeform, M/M, Peter Parker - Freeform, Peter grows up knowing Wade, Protective Deadpool, Protective Wade, Slow Forming Relationship, Spideypool - Freeform, Unrequited Love, Wade Wilson - Freeform, age gap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-06-09 21:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15276297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aftersingers/pseuds/Aftersingers
Summary: Peter is an eleven-year-old boy who stepped outside at the wrong time and caught the merc with a mouth in the middle of a contract.He wants to learn more about Wade and asks him if he can come to see him again.





	1. A Strange Run-In

**Author's Note:**

> No, their relationship doesn't form when Peter's eleven. They're just friends. The romance stuff doesn't happen until he's 16-17 :p

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction chapter: Peter runs into Wade during a contract.

With permission from Aunt May, Peter goes out for a walk. Unfortunately, Peter's timing isn't the best. He stopped in terror at the sight of a tall man in a black and red spandex suit. In his hand rested a small pistol. Quickly, he shot his contract. As much as Peter wanted to leave, he couldn't. He was shocked. He had just witnessed a man get killed, right in front of his face!

The spandex wearing man smirked under his mask, turning around. There weren't many other people around, so the man decided to fuck around with the kid, maybe even petrify him a bit more.

"Hey, Kid. What's wrong? Looks like you saw a ghost!"  
  
Gasping, Peter quietly mumbled, "No. I just saw a spandex wearing dude kill a man in front of me."

Deadpool chuckled. "Oh, what a sassy boy you are!"  
  
Peter blushed madly, taken aback and at a lack of words. He didn't know what else to say, so he just . . . kind of told the man his name and introduced himself.

Deadpool had asked a few questions about the boy and given him a simple explanation to what he was doing. He had no idea why he was talking to this kid and telling him so much, but he was.  
  
"So, you're a . . . friend?" Peter asked, turning his head.  "Kind of like a hero?"

"Oh, no, no, no. Kid, you've got the entire thing wrong. Not a friend. Hardly. See, I'm merely a bad guy who gets rid of badder guys. I'm far from a hero."  
  
"Oh, by the way, Peter, I'm Deadpool."  
  
The smallest hint of a smile outline could be seen from behind Wade's mask. "Ah, gotta run, kiddo!" Wade rushed, noticing the ringing of police sirens. Not that it mattered, they wouldn't catch him anyways.  
  
"Wait!" Peter called out desperately, but Deadpool was already on his way to leave. "Meet me here, tomorrow?" the young boy said, hoping the merc had heard him.

Peter had gone back inside, and Wade looked over his shoulder to see him.  
  
"Cute. I might just have to come back here like the kid asked."


	2. Fancy Seeing You Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter really wants to see Wade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wade is ten years older than Peter, so right now he's 21. 
> 
> I'm sorry this took so long, I've been busy with school and commissions. Hopefully, this chapter was worth the wait.
> 
> Also, give me some feedback. I'm thinking about updating every Saturday or Sunday. Or at least try to have it schedules so you guys would know when to check back :>  
> What do you think?

It had been several days since Peter first saw Deadpool. He was always asking Aunt May since then if he could go on the routine walk. Of course, Aunt May being the sweet lady she was, always said yes. She was oblivious to the fact why Peter had gained such a sudden interest in going outside. Most of the time, he spent his summer days in front of a screen or fidgeting with some faulty gadget he'd come up with. No, instead she encouraged the sudden change in attitude and told him all he had to do was say something before heading out.

As the days passed he found himself repeating the same thing: Today would be the day.

And each day, he believed it and held onto the phrase. He clung to it in a sort of unexplainable way and saw it as a method to keeping this thing going. However, as even more days went by he found it increasingly harder not to be disappointed. After nearly a week of the same thing, he was ready to call it quits. He told himself today would be his last attempt and then he'd give it up. He shouldn't obsess over this.

_***_

Things had managed to die down and Wade seemed to be off the radar once more. As per usual, this stuff didn't take long. He didn't know why the police even bothered anymore. They should know by now, nobody's getting The Merc with a Mouth.

He got up from his place in the beat down chair and stretched his limbs. He craned his neck to either side and a crack noise could be heard. Clasping his hands together to crack his knuckles, he grunted aloud. His body was sore all over and ached. He needed the release of the 'popping' sounds something bad. Placing his hands on his lower back, he leaned into it and rolled his shoulders to lax them. Wade made a few more noises as he stretched his body and restored the feeling in his muscles. The tension throughout him disappeared and he felt much more relaxed afterward.

He was mostly geared up, with the exception of his dual katanas that lay pressed up against the side wall. He lazily grabbed at them on his way to the door and with minimal effort threw them into their resting sheathes. Katanas. Mentally checked. Nothing left to go, let's get this party on down the road. As he started to exit, though, something felt forgotten. Not missing, definitely not missing because he had everything, but there was something he seemed to be forgetting.

Shit.

_*_ _**_

Peter started on his routine afternoon walk around the area; passing through different neighborhoods and looking at the cars as they flew by him on the street. Occasionally he would stop on the New York sidewalk to greet store owners or watch a stray cat or dog come through. He kept himself busy with observing the people around him, a spandex wearing man specific in his mind. It couldn't be that difficult, right? I mean, who else wore a suit like that clad with heavy weaponry? Surely he'd be able to recognize him and spot him through a crowd of suited business men, rushing mothers and hurried students.

Peter shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket and fidgeted with them nervously. He had made his way back, closer to his apartment, where the boy first met the masked man. Maybe he'd come here since this is where Peter had asked to meet. His walks always started with him searching for the man and ended with him sitting on this stone perch, waiting. He had hope that today would be different. Today was going to be the day.

_***_

The masked man slinked his way through the streets, ignoring the stares and dirty looks he was being given. People snarled and threw ugly sideways glances at him. What? Was it the mask?  
[No, you idiot.]  
(We are heavily armed. And in public.)  
Chill, boxes. The author thought she was being funny. Continue the story.

He was going sheerly off of memory and hoped it was even a little right. Damn kid. Why'd he have to look that way?

Wade's memory served him well as the building from last week came into sight. He made out a small figure slouched on top a stone stool who was awkwardly swinging their legs back and forth. Wade casually strolled up and spoke loudly with a cocky, all most playful tone to his voice.

"Well, fancy meeting you here, Kid! Or is it seeing?"


	3. Why?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Wade talk a while.
> 
> Wade wonders what's so special about this kid and why he's going out of his way to see him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOT A PEDOPHILIA REFERENCE! 
> 
> When I say Wade wonders why he feels this way, I am by no means alluding to pedophilia or implying anything about Wade being a pedophile.
> 
> Please don't take this chapter the wrong way. An adult can have parental or sibling like instincts towards a child without it being sensual. Wade can feel protective or emotional towards Peter without it being pedophilia. 
> 
> Thanks :)

Peter audibly gasped upon hearing that so familiar voice. It hadn’t been very long and he’d already had the sound memorized. He let go of his hands inside his hoodie pocket and hopped down, not paying any attention to his footing. Wade instinctively reached out, grabbing at him.  
  
“Hey, no! Watch what you’re doing!” the older man called to Peter, his voice raising. The playful tone had completely dropped and Peter’s face reddened. Wade set him down, assuring he was placed firmly on the ground. Peter’s body was pressed up to Wade, his face buried into his chest. Peter let his hands rise to the man’s chest to push himself back, stuttering over his own words.   
  
“. . .Um--I was--I was fine. It wasn’t even very high up. You didn’t have to--” Wade cut him off, arms crossed. He looked at him, staring at the boy with evident disappointment. Peter saw his brows raise through the mask, somehow, however that was possible. Peter only looked away, mildly embarrassed now. “Uh, sorry,” he whispered, face puffed out and still heated.   
  
“What are you doing out this late, anyways?”   
  
“I was waiting for you,” Peter shuffled his feet and rubbed at the back of his neck. He tugged his hoodie closer to his body, feeling the chilled New York air cutting through the thin fabric. Aunt May told him to wear something heavier, but he was in such a hurry he just rushed out shrugging on the first thing he saw. “I’ve been walking around the area and coming back here after each walk, kind of just hoping you’d show up,” he laughed nervously, “and I guess you did, after all, so there’s that at least.”    
  
Wade sighed. “You’ve been doing that, this whole week? Out in the cold?”    
  
Peter opened his mouth to speak, to say something--anything, but nothing came out. He tried again, mouth opening and closing. He was at a loss of how to answer so eventually he just shrugged, cringing internally. Real smooth, Peter. Wade shook his head and Peter felt the hefty weight of an excessive material gather at his shoulders. He bunched it in his hands.   
  
“Wait, no-- I can’t, I have this, it’s fine.” He made a gesture to the hoodie over his undershirt with his hands.   
  
“Just take the damn jacket baby boy so you don’t get sick and worry anyone.” Peter wrapped the newly obtained article of clothing around himself, hoping it could hide his face from the man in front of him.    
  
“. . . Thank you, um, I’ll be sure to bring it back tom--when I see you again, if that’s okay with you.” he gave Wade a weak smile and Wade swears he felt his heart melt through all that cold, winter weather. He looked at him for a second, just taking in his looks and studying his appearance. Peter was a small boy, but he didn’t look fragile. His body was lithe and he was a bit on the short side. His hair wasn’t very long, rather it was a tamed length. Nicely trimmed and was well kempt. The brown coloring was rich with a voluminous look to it. His hair almost seemed to have a curl-like nature as well, but Wade didn't think that was the case. Nonetheless, his features complemented his overall looks. Peter, in the least creepiest way possible, looked like a cute boy. Okay, maybe there wasn't a non-creepy way to think or say that, Wade argued with himself.

Still, Wade couldn't help but observe the anxious boy in front of him, so close to his chest. He could reach out right now and just pull him into a tight embrace. Would Peter be upset if he were to hug him now, in this moment? Would that be weird to do? Wade thought about it for a second, his lips pursed and brows scrunched together in a slight frown. Maybe not hug the kid. That'd probably scare him away. Come to think of it, why was Peter so interested in Wade in the first place? What was so special? And why did Wade act out on an impulse? Well, he is Deadpool. And Deadpool does what deadpool wants. Yeah, that sounded logical enough for Wade. Even if it wasn't logic, so what. Since when did logic matter to him in the first place?

He felt a light tap on his arm and looked down to see the reddest face possible.

“Uhm- Mister Deadpool, I think I might have to go now… It's getting a bit late.” Peter glanced up at him, his face turning into a sad pout.  "I'm sorry, I hope we can meet up again. I really enjoyed talking with you… Thank you so much for lending me your jacket. Uh, can-- can you let me go now?”

Peter's face was absolutely flushed. He could feel the heat of his cheeks even in the numbing New York air.  

Wade chuckled a bit. “Right, sorry. Be more careful though, yeah baby boy?”

“... Yeah, okay.”

Wade released his hold on Peter and Peter nervously wriggled his way away from Wade's chest back to the steps of the old apartment complex. Wade also moved back a bit, watching Peter retreat up the stairs. Peter waved furiously as he disappeared inside with a big smile on his face.

Why did Wade want to hug him so bad? Why did that kid make him feel so protective? The thought of actually being careful around someone made Wade visibly uncomfortable. He tried to stop thinking about helping the boy and watching over him as he departed the area to find new contracts.

Dammit, he just wanted Peter to stay warm and safe. This would be an awfully long week if he kept worrying like this. He was Deadpool. The Merc with a Mouth. He didn't worry over small things like this.

And he certainly didn't go out of his way to protect children he just met.

_So what gives?_


	4. Something New (Peter's P.O.V.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter returns to his apartment to ponder some stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in Peter's point of view.

Oh my God.

Oh my God, we were so close. I was basically against his chest that whole time. I felt so… I don't know. I guess to put it into words, safe. I felt safe next to him. Yeah, that's the sentence to describe it. My smaller stature pressed flatly to his much larger one made me somehow feel secure. I didn't feel like I could get hurt while I was by him that whole time.

I can still feel my face. It's so warm that it's burning. My cheeks must be absolutely cherry red. I wonder if he'll be here tomorrow, or even at all again this week? Does he dislike me? Am I too clingy?

But he reached out to keep me from falling and even told me to be careful… Not to mention he gave me this overly heavy jacket. That means he cares, right? Even a little bit? It has to mean some form of emotion. That small hope bubbles up inside me at the thought of my new friend Mister Deadpool actually caring. I really, really want him to care.

My heart is absolutely pounding out of my chest.

I'm not used to being that close to anyone, not even Aunt May. I didn't hate it, though. It wasn't a bad feeling at all, even if it triggered some major nerves inside me. I wonder, is that normal? Did Mister Deadpool get that same way? Or is he better with people than I am?

I know he's a stranger and could probably hurt me in an instant, but I don't think he would or will. Even if our first time meeting was me watching him shoot a man in front of me with no remorse. He would have done that by now if hurting me were in any part of his intentions.

He has to have feelings too. Everybody does, don't they? Some are just better at suppressing them than others.

Mister Deadpool looked so calm and collected with all those weapons strapped to him. Does he always carry all that stuff? He must be strong. He had a very firm grip on me when he caught me in his arms.

Oh, no, I can feel my face heating back up at the thought of that. I shyly shake my head, back still pressed against the apartment door. Is he gone already? Probably. He seemed to wait for me to leave first, though. I think this is another good sign. I should make him something for the next time we meet!

What would he like, though? I don't know much about him, not near as much as I want to. I'm not sure if he'd tell me anything at all if I asked him anyways. Although there isn't a doubt in my mind he was better with people than I am, I'm sure he prefers to keep to himself as much as possible.

Maybe I could make him a weapon. Is that violent? I don't think Aunt May would be too happy if she found me constructing one. That would probably concern her beyond her normal worry habits. Still, I really wanted to return the favor and make something nice for him. Preferably something practical, something he'd actually use. Something that wouldn't get in his way. The best plausibile option to me was the weapon idea. What kind of weapon could I make that would be discreet and get past Aunt May, though? Would it even be useful to him?

I kicked my shoes off and set them in the cubby corner but I kept the jacket he gave me draped over my shoulders. The jacket certainly was warm and with the heat out I was finding myself to be very grateful to have it. The winters here got brutal, dropping into the negatives most days lately. Hopefully Mister Deadpool didn't need it himself. I'd feel awful knowing I took his only jacket away from him and left him in the freezing cold to get sick.

He'd be okay though, wouldn't he? I got sad at the thought of him getting ill. If he was sick, he wouldn't want to see me. I know that sounded very selfish, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to get to see him as soon as possible. Was that bad? Should I be more patient? Oh, but how could I? I was already thinking of him so frequently now. I don't think I've had a single thought this week that didn't revolve around him. I had anticipated his visit that whole time and being able to meet him today like that filled me with joy. It wasn't for a long time, but I truly did enjoy it like I said when I left to come inside.

I think I just really wanted his approval… having that would instantly put me in a good mood on even the worst day. Thinking about him made me happy as it was. Is this weird? Am I too attached to him? He was a grown man, after all. Maybe I shouldn't get so excited over him. Again, though, I can't help it. He keeps crossing my mind against my will.

Just as I had calmed myself down and my face didn't feel so hot I recalled the name he referred to me as.

Baby boy.

What was that supposed to mean? Was it a nickname, or something he liked to call people? I kind of liked the way it sounded. I'd never, in my whole life, heard that term be used on anyone.

I head upstairs towards my room and called it a day. Though it was only midday, I was tired and wanted some rest before school tomorrow.

I drifted off to sleep with his jacket zipped up and the hood pulled over my head.


End file.
